


They Can Only Be Done By

by templefugate



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Chaptered, Dark, Dolls, F/M, Gen, Hospitals, Miscarriage, Murder, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, POV Alternating, Past Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templefugate/pseuds/templefugate
Summary: Greta Evans is by all means a failure - a college drop-out and runaway who has failed at being a wife, sister, and daughter. Headed to England for some soul-searching (though really she might just be looking for a soul), she stumbles across the only high paying job she's ever qualified for. It requires she be the one thing she's ever been good at: a mother.Even if it's just for a short time, she'll care for the Heelshire boy as though he's her own.Greta swallowed a lump in her throat and then smiled, the first real smile she'd had in ages. "I love your doll. Would you like to see mine?"





	They Can Only Be Done By

**Author's Note:**

> I'd say this fic began when I first watched The Boy on Netflix a week ago, but the seeds were planted years ago when I read an article about reborn baby dolls.
> 
> This is going to be a dark fic, so warnings will come before all chapters. As of this chapter, there is heavily implied (canonical) abuse and blood.

Aunt Flo had popped by for a visit after months of not even dropping a phone call.

Shit, Greta thought, rummaging through her medicine cabinet. Right then she couldn't tell which was worse, the throbbing in her skull or the pain in her belly and between her legs. Feminine napkins weren't the only thing missing - the Tylenol had vanished.

It was there the last time I checked, Greta thought. The throbbing was steady as her heartbeat and hard as a repeated swat. Even thinking hutt. 

Though she doubted even the finest prescription could do her much good at the moment, anything to at least slow the pain would be a gift from heaven. As it was, she was drowing in a sea of entangled nerves and fastly growing aches.

_Shit shit shit shit-_

Greta hurried towards the toilet, all but ripping off the roll of toilet paper from its holder. She shoved a few pieces of it up her cunt, pushing it back in when it threatened to slip out. Using another, she hurried to wipe the sides of her legs. If Cole saw the floor-

The pounding in her head must have been louder than she thought because the stairs certainly weren't carpeted. It was only when Cole pushed open the door that she finally noticed him, red-faced and eyes wide. She froze, cold air from the hallway momentarily cooling her fiery skin.

They blinked. Cole didn't scream, Greta didn't cry. An outsider might think them strangers who had accidentally stumbled upon each other.

"Greta, you're bleeding."

Despite herself, she had to force back a laugh. Of course she was! What else did it look like? From the time she'd first scraped her knee as a child, to that rough day in the sixth grade, and finally to the fateful night she'd met him she'd been bleeding. It was almost like her body wanted to just let her spill herself out into the world, leaving nothing to hide between her walls of flesh.

"Greta, your-" Cole didn't finish. He raised a shaking finger towards her groin.

It was as if the last two brain cells left in her head finally decided to rub themselves together. She looked down, struggling to see over her swollen belly. Leaning down, she placed a hand on the haphazardly placed toilet paper. Pulling her fingers back, a thin line of blood extended from the tips of her fingers and back towards her lower abdomen. It floated for a few seconds in the air as if suspended by invisible strings before falling on her pants, forgotten between her lower legs.

That was when the screaming started.

-

She tripped going _up_ the stairs. Nothing too serious, certainly nothing to raise any flags. Greta picked herself up and dusted herself off before heading back to her bedroom. Some twenty minutes she was in the bathroom frantically searching for pills and pads.

The story came so easily off Cole's tongue that she half believed it herself. Despite his gruff exterior, Cole had always been a wordsmith. Many nights she'd stayed up imagining the tales he'd pepper little Piper's mind with.

Yes, her name was going to be Piper. It had been too early to get tested, but she'd always suspected they were going to have a girl. A beautiful little girl who was going to be everything Greta wasn't.

She'd repeated the same tale to the nurses and over the phone to her sister. By the time she and her mother had arrived to the hospital to question Greta in person, she was too high on morphine to get a sentence out. Anything she would have said wouldn't have been true, probably wouldn't even have been intelligible. The nurses had been nice, giving her wobbly smiles and Jello cups and enough drugs to thrill a hardened junkie.

No, the throbbing wasn't there any longer and neither was Greta, lost somewhere else. She couldn't be sure where, not with her body numb and senses turned off, but it seemed nice enough. Maybe even good.

Piper wasn't there any longer either. Her belly was still big but the nurses said it would recede in a few days. She'd almost laughed - they could just call her fat and be done with it. They wouldn't be the first girls to say it to her, after all.

Cole was there too, sitting still as a statue in one of those brown plastic chairs. She must have fallen asleep because by the time she next looked at him, he had moved. Behind him, perched on the window ledge, was a handful of yellow balloons.

GET WELL SOON.

She had giggled at that, a distant sound that only faintly reached her ears. The beeps, chatter, and footfall around her were far off. It was like trying to understand the words coming out of a television turned on in another room.

There was a teddy bear stuck up near her shoulders, pink, soft, and fat. _Pink for Piper._

Cole moved, locked eyes with her. The whole world seemed to turn just a bit too slowly. His movements were like that of a puppet on a string. She half expected him to fall.

_But luckily for him we're already in a hospital._

Greta giggled at that too.

-

Why would anyone need a house this big? As soon as the question popped in her head, answers followed. People with a million kids like those families on reality TV shows needed the extra space. But it was just three people here - a couple and their boy. Even if the parents had been staying with them, four people wouldn't so much as make a dent in the living space. In a phone call, Mrs. Heelshire had mentioned they didn't have any pets either. They had good reason - this seemed like the sort of place a cat or dog could get lost forever in.

Yet she couldn't bring herself to complain. She leaned forward against the car window, eyes widening. This was the sort of place everyone dreamed of living in.

The chaffeur couldn't get the car door open fast enough.

"Your things are already inside," he spoke dryly, motioning towards the front doors.

She shot him a wide grin then, remembering profesionality, held her hand forward. He stared at it a moment before giving her a quick shake. The way he touched her, so light, it was as if he didn't so much as want to feel any more of her skin than he had to.

She turned. Bathed in shadow on the front steps were the Heelshires. No pictures had been sent of them beforehand.

Greta did her best not to stare. At most she'd expected a middle aged couple. As it was, the two looked like models for a 401k plan ad. Yet though their hair was silver and skin wrinkled like worn leather, they stood with straight backs. She tried to mimick their stance, walking forward with a slight smile.

It wasn't the first time that day that she wished she was wearing more than a hoodie and yoga pants. Yet in her frenzy to leave the states, she'd packed at best a red party dress. Greta doubted the two wanted to judge the curve of her shoulders or shape of her legs or grab drinks with her.

Their expressions were about as readable as heiroglyphs. Her smile faded.

"I see you finally arrived," Mr. Heelshire commented.

"There were traffic issues." As soon as she spoke, Greta bit her lip. It was only when the chaffeur gave a curt nod that she relaxed.

"No matter," Mrs. Heelshire said, smiling one of those pearly toothed grins that dentists dreamed of, "what matters is that you're here now. Brahms will be so excited to meet you!"

Mr. Heelshire said nothing as they entered the house.

Greta slipped off her shoes, following after the couple by a few feet. The house seemed even larger now than it had on the outside. The ceiling alone seemed impossibly high.

"Your shoes?" Mrs. Heelshire asked.

Greta froze.

This isn't your house, she reminded herself. Turning, she looked towards the doorway.

"They're-"

"Off who knows where," Mrs. Heelshire finished. "Brahms is a mischievous boy. Don't worry, they'll show up soon."

Greta gave a small smile. "I didn't even hear him."

Mr. Heelshire cleared his throat, the sound echoing off the walls. "What you must understand, Ms. Evans, is that Brahms is a _special_ boy."

Greta nodded. "Oh, that's no problem. My niece is that way too." She paused. "Though you didn't mention any specific medical needs. Is there anything I should know? Considering how far away you two will be, I'd like to avoid any emergencies before they can ever happen."

Mr. Heelshire looked as though he was about to say something but then stopped himself. Mrs. Heelshire just smiled, placing a hand around Greta's shoulders and pulling her forward.

"I expect he's still in the living room."

It was as if they had all forgotten how to speak. Mrs. Heelshire smiled, but her whole face looked as though it could have been made out of rubber. Mr. Heelshire's expression was half hidden in shadow, the only light in the room coming from between tightly slit curtains.

Greta held a hand up to her lips. She'd read online about couples that did things like this, those with the money for it and in the know of someone who could pull this sort of thing off. The porcelain was milk white, the glassy eyes shining even in the dim light. Judging by the design, there were no batteries.

Brahms was nothing like Piper - either of her. The first had been a toy store reject, all scratchy costumes and cheap hair. The next had been impossibly detailed, made with the finest skin and designed to wear real baby clothes. Watery tears dripped from her eyes while electric cries left her chest. Greta had taken the batteries out before she'd left, stuffing her in a suitcase with a heavy heart.

Greta swallowed a lump in her throat and then smiled, the first real smile she'd had in ages. "I love your doll. Would you like to see mine?"

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be from Brahms' point of view! I'm excited for it. Hopefully it won't take forever for me to update.


End file.
